Chapter Fourteen
His large hand curls around the side of my chin and cheek, fingers lacing through the knotted hair at the top of my neck. Tingles surface on my skin everywhere he touches, sprinting downwards to inappropriate places. He kisses me hard, as if he’s been starved all day and I’m the only thing that can replenish him. His lips push against mine as he steps into my body, my back butting up against a cold wall.
I’m in shock.
Gloatman is kissing me. Me. Oh my god! Gloatman is kissing me! James Gloatman. And I’m doing absolutely nothing about it.
He places his spare hand on the wall beside me for balance as his other hand curves further behind my head, tipping it up gently. I realise what he’s doing. He’s trying to progress this kiss. He wants us to use tongues. And hell, I’m up for it. I’m clenching my core as shivers fly up and down my spine like one of those drop towers at an amusement park.
But, no, no, no, no… This cannot be.
This is madness. We must stop. We must.
His tongue traces the crease of my lips, inviting me to open for him, and that’s it. I laugh. I laugh against his lips whilst he’s still kissing me.
Oh, shit. This isn’t going to land well. I’m fairly certain it’s a rule you can’t laugh when someone tries to kiss you – same goes for laughing during sex.
James stops what he’s doing, slowly extracting himself from me. He takes a few steps back as my laughter grows harder. I cover my face to hide it, but the damage is already done, I see it written all over his face.
“I’m sorry,” I squeak.
“Oh, no. No. Go ahead and destroy my ego. I know it’s one of your favourite pastimes.” James’ tone is jokey, softer than usual, as if I have, in fact, destroyed his ego. Oh, well, it has always been a life goal of mine. I never thought it would be this easy to achieve though.
“No, no. It’s not you. Well, it is you. It’s just… This …” I gesture between us. “ What? Why? How? No… We can’t. Can we? Oh god, this is weird. I hate you. But I sort of like you too,” I say. “Can’t believe I’m even saying this out loud.”
“You’re making zero sense, Felicity,” he says, rubbing his chin.
“Ok, sorry, what I mean is…” I laugh again. Christ my cheeks are hot. So are my thighs. Get a grip, Fliss . I sigh, calming myself. After a few deep breaths I say, “Do you think this is just a reaction to this situation?” I’m overusing hand gestures. I link my fingers together behind my back to hide them. “It’s so intense, this forced proximity, the last-two-people-in-the-world thing. Have we just succumbed to our baser desires?”
James blinks. He cups his cheeks as he blows out a breath. Then he laughs too. “Oh god, that’s it, isn’t it?”
“ See .”
“Argh, this is embarrassing. So, you weren’t laughing at the kiss, then?”
Oh, man. I’ve really bruised his ego. His self-conscious thoughts are manifesting both verbally and as worried facial expressions. Who knew he had them? “Oh, well. No. It’s the situation.”
“Right,” he nods, looking around like he’s lost and just found himself in a ruined castle in Scotland. How did he get here? How did I get here? Oh, yes. Our crazy boss. “I’m sorry. If you weren’t into it, if I overstepped.”
A wild buzz spreads through my limbs and cheeks. “No, not at all, that’s sort of why I laughed.”
“No?” He frowns. “You’re still not making any sense.”
“No, as in I was dangerously into it… But you’re James Boatman. You’re the worst person I know. You’re a bloody nightmare. I can’t kiss you. You can’t kiss me. That’s not a thing we can do.”
He nods. “Dangerously into it?”
I laugh. “Why is that the only thing you heard?”
“Hmm, only bit that mattered, really.” He swallows, his face suddenly serious again. He reverts back to his Austen hero stance, as if he walked straight here from a seventeenth-century battle and is surprised to find his hunting lodge has burnt down in flames. With a light feathering of stubble on his chin and his hair falling around his ears, it’s almost believable. Unfortunately, his black t-shirt and walking trousers tarnish the image.
“What about you?” I say, my voice low. I suddenly realise that I’m scared of his answer. I’ve put myself into the more vulnerable position. He knows exactly what I’m thinking but as usual his thoughts remain enigmatic.
He steps closer to me where I’m leaning against the wall, until his body is once again flush with mine. I have to tip my head back to look at him which means my body arches into his. Wanton wench! James’ breathing isn’t normal. It’s choppy, harsh to the ear. His eyes lock with mine, blue fire sending shockwaves to my core.
“I think I’m dangerously into this too,” he says, as his knee slides between my legs, his thigh pressing against me. I gasp as he leans in closer.
This time his lips only trace mine. It’s so gentle, so subtle, I barely even feel it. His minty breath plays on my senses as his hand finds its way back to my cheek, fingers tickling my skin so gently I squirm as sensations burst then explode outwards like mini fireworks.
He comes back again, gently. Taking his time. His lips press on mine as if I’m made of sugar paper and might rip if he’s too hard.
I think I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s playing with me. He’s daring me to kiss him back. And I’m completely up for winning the game he’s started. But I’m not sure what the winning response is… Maybe I should pull away. That doesn’t feel right. Instead, I grab at his top, the material bunching in my grip. I finally get my hands in his hair, tugging his face closer to mine. Dear lord, it’s better than I’d imagined. His hair is long enough, soft enough, that I can properly weave it in between my fingers. I groan into his mouth as we both open to take it further.
His tongue collides with mine in this big hot mess. He holds me tighter, his spare hand roaming down the side of my body, finding my shoulders, my waist, then curving over my butt and pulling me into him.
We kiss harder, longer, desperately. It’s quite literally the sort of kiss you’d expect from two people who are as horny as hell, going at it at the end of the world. That’s when I take hold of James’ bottom lip with my teeth, nipping and pulling it into my mouth. I feel something hard bridge between us and James grunts in this guttural way before pushing off me. I release him, wondering if I’ve gone too far.
He turns his back to me. I stand stunned, waiting for the butterflies in my core to settle down, the buzz in my limbs to fade. My breathing too, is frantic. I place a hand over my heart to feel it jumping in my chest.
That’s when he starts to laugh.
“Now you’re laughing?” I say.
He turns to face me with a challenging glow in his eyes. “You bit me.”
“Yeah… Sorry, it’s sort of a party trick of mine. It doesn’t work for everyone.”
“It worked, don’t worry.”
Oh wow, this is mental. I rack my brain for ways to change the conversation. When I do speak, my voice is squeaky. “I think, on that note, we should probably find somewhere to camp. This place is going to turn into midge city in about twenty minutes.”
James sighs. Nods. Then follows me out of the ruins and we walk in silence, calming all our senses as we seek a spot to pitch up for the night.
*
We find a piece of land next to a quietly trickling stream. It’s covered in little stones and rocks we move in order to provide a semi-comfortable space to lie on. The grey skies have finally broken and although the rain that dampens our clothing again removes the issue of midges, it provides the same result. We need shelter.
Once our tiny tent is pitched and ready, we both climb in, James lying down on his back, groaning as the pain from his fall last night and the long walk today start to take effect. He fidgets, rolling from side to side slowly trying to find a comfortable position. I sit up cross-legged. This is partly because, clearly, there is a chemical reaction occurring between us now and I feel that the more space between us (albeit entirely limited due to the puny tent we were provided with), the less likely it is a reaction will occur.
James finally rolls onto his back in defeat, blinking at the ceiling. “This is our last night out here, right? We can’t be that far now… right?”
“I’d get the map out so we could play guess where we probably are again, but I don’t see much point.”
“Please give me hope.”
“I see. You wanted the answer you want to hear, not the likely, most probable one?”
“Exactly.”
“Yes. We’ll make it back tomorrow. Can’t you hear all that city traffic? We’re practically in the suburbs,” I add as the sound of more raindrops tap, tap, tap on the material we’re sheltered by.
James grins. It’s a calm grin. “Could be worse.”
I try not to accept that as a compliment but granted it’s difficult. We’ve been at each other’s throats for so long, it seems crazy he might actually be enjoying spending time with me. I lean over to grab a protein bar from the bottom of James’ bag because I can feel the early evening hunger coming on. When I hear his stomach rumble too, I laugh, pass him the first one, before getting another for me. We chew in silence, pausing to take gulps of water from our bottles whilst we listen to the world outside our tiny tent.
James clears his throat. “Do you think I’m an uncle yet?”
“Oh, you must be. How many days has it been?”
“This will be our third night out here.”
“There’s no way labour can last three days. Right? Right? ”
He laughs, rubbing his face and pushing his hair back, holding his arm above his head. “Nah, I think they get surgical before then.” He gulps, his face dropping to a serious expression. “I hope she’s ok.”
“I’m sure she is.”
“I should really be there. If not for her, for my sisters too. And Mum. She’ll be losing her mind if anything is wrong.”
“I’m sure everything’s fine.”
James nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Sophie is strong.”
“Like you,” I say. And what? Is he strong? Do I think that or am I just trying to make him feel better? I can feel a blush creep into my cheeks. I look away, my eyes settling on his socked feet at the end of the tent.
He sighs. “I’m not strong out of choice. Mum had a… bad patch… after my dad absconded. She was left completely on her own with four kids on a nurse’s salary and a shit heap of a house. I don’t know when it happened, but I just started taking charge. Somehow it felt like the natural thing to do.
“I was the one who got all the girls out for school in the morning. I made sure we had dinner on the table. We mostly ate jacket potatoes and beans on toast because it was all we could afford. I’d just turned fourteen when I started working weekends at the shop, and sixteen when I started working full time.” He’s staring at the ceiling of the tent when I realise my gaze has strayed back to his face. “I’m strong because there wasn’t another option for us, my family. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to my sisters.”
I nod. “You didn’t have to do that though. You’re strong because you chose to be, despite what you think. Some people never improve their situation, or else use it to enable their own bad behaviour. You’ve done more than take care of your sisters. You’ve worked hard to get where you are now.”
James grins again as he swallows. I watch his throat working. I have this sudden animalistic urge to bend over and kiss him there. Feel the taste of his skin on my tongue.
Maybe I should go and stand in the rain for a bit. Cool off.
“What about you?” he asks. “Why are you so brave?”
“I’m categorically not brave, James.”
“You are. You have no problem standing up to me. You get up and present in front of huge teams and really important client meetings. It’s like it doesn’t even bother you.”
I shrug. “That’s work brave. Not life brave.”
“What’s the difference?”
“At work I’m Head of Marketing. I know what I’m talking about and I’m confident enough not to feel nervous doing those things. People respect me enough to listen. I’m not necessarily trying to prove anything. Sure, I want to progress. But I know I’m nailing it. In life? I’m fairly certain I’m failing quite spectacularly.”
I laugh at the absurdity of it all. “I live with four full-grown adults in a three-bed flat covered in mould we all just pretend isn’t there for our own sanity. Surely, by the time you’re Head of Marketing you should be able to afford to rent your own place? My parents honestly cause me constant stress and anxiety. Why can’t my mum just figure out some of her own life issues without using me as her personal therapist? And why can’t Dad make some good decisions for once? I so often feel like I’m the bad guy, coming in to tell them off or call them out on their shit.”
I close my eyes tight, breathing slowly, as I realise I’ve wound up a pang of anxiety. It’s sitting heavy across my abdomen. I want to take all those words back, because compared to James’ story, they’re nothing at all.
“If it makes you feel any better, my mum’s the opposite, always breathing down my neck,” James says. “She loves to remind me that my sisters have settled down.”
“Bet you pay her hardly any notice.”
He shrugs, turning his head to look at me. It’s very intimate being this close as a cloud must cover what’s left of the sun, blocking out the light. His eyes are as dark as midnight. “It’s a stark reminder that I’ve had my heart broken. It’s like she either forgets or doesn’t think it bothers me anymore.”
I can’t look away. I really think I should. Because clearly it does bother him. Whatever happened in his past. My heart rate is increasing, as if I’m facing some sort of threat. Maybe this is what exhilaration feels like. I’ve never had this with a man before. I don’t know why he’s opening up to me so much. Allowing me to see something he normally wouldn’t.
He grins softly. “We’re a pathetic pair, huh?”
I just shrug lightly. I think we both know we’re not pathetic really. We’re just both at a stage where we’re trying to figure out our lives.
I feel a shiver rack through me as the temperature drops. It’s getting later. The sun is fading, and with the thick blanketing of cloud it’s getting darker earlier than usual. The rain picks up. It’s so loud in the tent, thundering down on top of us, I can barely hear myself think. The stream nearby is picking up pace. Wind rattles through the trees. I hug my knees closer to my chest.
James leans across to the zipped-together sleeping bag that’s been shoved in the corner. He pulls it upwards, laying it out and climbing in. As he slides his trousers off with much shuffling and removes his t-shirt, he says, “Climb in before you get too cold.”
Clearly, he’s now in tune with my body.
Warning signals go off in my head.
You’ll be back at work with him next week, Fliss. You’ll have to face him. You’ll have to face everyone knowing what you did. That’s if you do something. Probably just don’t do something. Don’t give in to those urges.
But I am cold. And James, by experience, is very warm. I strip down to my knickers and vest like I did the previous nights. He pretends not to be looking. I climb in beside him, trying and failing to keep my hands safely at my sides. By default, my hand happens to be in the same place as his crotch and I swipe it with my hand before knowing what I’ve even done.
James sucks in a breath.
“Oh, god, I’m sorry. That was an accident.”
He nods, repositioning himself.
“Are you in much pain today?” I ask, trying to change the conversation swiftly.
“It’s manageable.”
“Good, because we ran out of vodka.”
“You drank it all for your leg. How’s the cut feeling now, by the way?”
I peek down, which is pointless because now I’m covered by my sleeping bag. “It’s a little sore but it’s fine. Should probably see a doctor about it once we’re out of here.”
“You’d probably have a fever by now if it was infected.”
“Yikes. Could you imagine?”
James rolls over again, trying to find a comfortable position. His shoulder wedges up against mine. Then his leg is against my leg, the hairs rubbing on my smooth skin. The sensation has me clenching my core. I bite my lip. I stay on my back, closing my eyes in the dimming light, willing the buzz away.
I need to not fancy this man.
He doesn’t stop moving, however, shifting this way and that. It’s only small movements but it’s enough to get me properly riled up. “Oh my god, James. Please . Please stop moving.”
James laughs awkwardly, breathy. “I’m trying to find a position where I can make you warm but not get turned on by your body being so close.”
I laugh too. “How’s that going?”
“ So badly.”
“Oh, sod it. Should I just go and sleep in the rain? Should we hike in the dark?”
“If only we had some distress signals.”
“What? Get rescued by helicopters because we’re too horny to be left alone right now?”
James’ head twists so he can scan my face properly. My lips part as our eyes collide. There’s so much hunger there. So much need in both of us. I think it would seriously take hurricane winds to pull us apart and prevent this from happening.
I act first this time, turning onto my side so my hand can loop through the gorgeous dark hair at the back of his head. He makes the most throaty sound I’ve ever heard as he leans down to take my lips with his. His long, heavy leg links between mine as he seems to forget any of the pain and kisses me back with ardour.